"Fudge!" cried the Nut inelegantly. "There never was such a letter. She invented that yarn so as to account for her presence elsewhere on the night of the crime. She did murder Squire Evans. You heard what Peter said?"
"Oh, yes. And I have heard what Simon said. I am bound to say," said Hench with emphasis, "that his story is much the same."
"Well then, with two witnesses, what more proof do you want of the woman's guilt?" demanded Spruce indignantly. "I fancy I have earned my money. What do you say, Vane?"
"I say we had better have Simon in and hear his story," retorted the barrister dryly. "It is just as well to get everything made quite plain."
"So I think," declared the Nut briskly. "Call him in, Hench."
With great calmness the young man did so, not at all disturbed by the imperious tone in which the order was given. This was Spruce's little hour of triumph, so both the visitors allowed him to control the situation while he was able. Bottles made his appearance quickly, and cap in hand stood before the closed door, waiting to be interrogated. With his freckled face and red hair he looked anything but prepossessing. At least he did not in the Nut's eyes, who failed to observe the good-humoured expression and intelligent gaze of the lad, which were worth much more than mere animal comeliness.
Spruce, in the attitude of an examining judge, surveyed the boy superciliously and immediately began to question him. "You are to tell these gentlemen what you told me," he commanded. "Now, on the first of July you followed Madame Alpenny to the Liverpool Street Station?"
"Yes, sir. She caught the five o'clock train to this place."
"And you followed?"
"I did, sir. I wished to see what her game was."